


Heavens Blessed

by Phoenix_Soar



Series: Wicked Thing [16]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Banter, Beach Sex, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Fluff and Smut, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Porn with Feelings, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Soar/pseuds/Phoenix_Soar
Summary: Angel, d’you realise it was on this day we shagged for the first time in Rome?Crowley doesn't intend to tell Aziraphale that he's been mentally ticking the calendar for the last two thousand years. But it should come as no surprise that Aziraphale, of course, surprises him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Wicked Thing [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546879
Comments: 14
Kudos: 162





	Heavens Blessed

**Author's Note:**

> Part 16 of the 'Wicked Thing' verse. To understand the premise of this series, please read the first two parts ['Wicked Games'](https://twitter.com/RV_Phoenix_Soar) and ['Hopes Realised'](https://twitter.com/RV_Phoenix_Soar).
> 
> This fic heavily references ['When in Rome'](https://twitter.com/RV_Phoenix_Soar); highly recommended you read that one, but can be understood without
> 
> I'm posting this a week late, but Nov 2 marked one year since I posted 'Wicked Games', my first-ever explicit fic which gave rise to this 'Wicked Thing' series. It wouldn't even be a series if not for the unexpected, and continuing, enthusiasm all of you have shown for these pining, horny dorks <3 Thank you so much!
> 
> This part 'Heavens Blessed' is an anniversary instalment ~~to celebrate a wholeass year of writing porn oh boi~~. It takes place some months after 'Love Handles', nearly a year after they officially got together in 'Hopes Realised'. 
> 
> Fair warning for possible emotional whiplash bc these two swing faster than Crowley’s hips between being feelsy and bastards™ heh

Crowley is a blessed thing, which he technically hasn’t been for more than six thousand years.

Crowley is a blessed thing still, because he has in his arms the greatest singular blessing any being can have.

Or at least, he _had_ until ten minutes ago, when said blessing wiggled out of his embrace, assured he’d be ‘back in a jiff’, and then left Crowley lying by himself on the sand.

Curious as to where Aziraphale has nipped off to right in the middle of their picnic, Crowley sits up on the blanket and gazes down the sandy beach.

The spring rains have given way to the beginning of summer, replacing bleak days with lengthening hours of sunlight. Although it is just past daybreak, normally there should be at least a few groups of humans down here already, bathing in the sea or camping farther up in the grass.

But on the drive down here, Crowley may or may not have wished, very intently, to have this stretch of the beach empty on this particular day.

It’s just one day; the humans aren’t missing out on much. Plenty of sun-filled days ahead for them.

It’s not just any other day for Crowley, though. Not for Aziraphale either, but Crowley honestly can’t tell if the Angel realises this.

So far, Crowley has refrained from saying anything. He didn’t let on a week earlier when he nonchalantly invited Aziraphale to the beach*, and he isn’t planning to say anything even now.

(* Aziraphale had chirped a happy affirmative, unaffected as anything.

They’ve had a few picnics already, mostly at the park, after they sorted themselves out in the wake of the world not ending. A picnic invitation to the beach is nothing to arise suspicion at this point.)

What Crowley intends this outing to be, at least on the surface, is just another date to enjoy with each other - and _not_ a commemoration of the first time that they … well, their _first time_ together.

His cheeks heat up at the very thought of it. Swallowing, Crowley lies back down, focussing on the feel of sand between his toes, the warmth of the early morning sun on his face, and the refreshing smell of salt wafting up from the ocean.

It really is a lovely day.

The tactic works for all of a minute. Then Crowley’s thoughts are blown right back to the past, when the smell of the sea had wafted his way - from a platter of oysters.

Heavens blessed. Crowley squeezes his eyes shut, groaning out loud. Yeah, imagine bringing that up with Aziraphale, he thinks dryly to himself.

_Angel, d’you realise it was on this day we shagged for the first time in Rome?_

Fuck.

It’s mortifying enough that Crowley has been mentally ticking the day for millennia. He is not going to say one word to Aziraphale.

Speaking of whom -

Crowley senses the Angel’s approach before the sound of soft footfalls reach him. Smiling, Crowley drawls without opening his eyes,

‘So what adventure were you off on with our picnic hamper?’

‘I _am_ in charge of bringing the food,’ replies Aziraphale’s prim voice from above.

‘You already had that hamper chockfull of nibbles when we set out,’ Crowley points out, cracking open an eye when he feels Aziraphale’s weight on the blanket beside him.

Aziraphale is toeing off the sandals Crowley has persuaded him to wear to the beach*. Folding his legs, he places the hamper in front of him and turns to smile down at Crowley.

(* The threat of sand and seawater ruining Aziraphale’s brogues had served as a better push than Crowley’s initial argument that Aziraphale had worn open-toed footwear without complaint millennia ago.)

Opening both eyes, Crowley returns the gesture, his gaze roving appreciatively over his Angel.

After a few back-and-forth bickering, Aziraphale has conceded that, besides his shoes, neither his coat nor waistcoat belongs on the beach either*. Subsequently, he is dressed only in a light blue shirt and tan trousers; his tartan bowtie is still stubbornly in place although his pale feet are free of similarly patterned socks.

(* Again, the threat of sand and seawater was what _really_ won, Crowley’s logic that nobody wears three layers in summer having little to no effect.)

In contrast with Crowley, who has on a grey tee-shirt and black shorts, Aziraphale would still seem overdressed. To Crowley, however, the lack of Aziraphale’s usual layers has left a familiar heat simmering in his gut. It was awakened from the moment he picked up the Angel at dawn, but Crowley is content to lie back and let the flames be fanned.

One hint from Aziraphale though, and Crowley will be on him like ducks on bread.

His lascivious appraisal of Aziraphale doesn’t go unnoticed. A pretty blush dusts the Angel’s cheeks, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, instead stating,

‘Yes, I did pack a few things -’ he ignores Crowley’s snort at the understatement, ‘- but I’d hoped it was still early enough to get a few things fresh from here.’

‘Fresh?’ Crowley raises an eyebrow. ‘What’d you do, accost some angler?’

‘I visited the village, of course. I’m not a _barbarian_ to strip a fisherman of his morning catch.’

‘So you bought fish?’ Crowley’s other brow rises to join the first. ‘Fancying some sashimi on the beach, are we?’

‘Not - not exactly.’ Aziraphale’s cheeks are flushed again, his focus solely on the wicker hamper he is sorting through.

Curious, Crowley sits up just as Aziraphale pulls out a large plate he’s not certain was in the hamper when he’d first looked.

What has Crowley widening his eyes and catching his breath, however, are the offerings carefully arranged on the white china.

‘Oysters,’ he says blankly, less a question and more a statement.

‘Oysters,’ Aziraphale affirms, his voice pitching a little higher than before. ‘I’d heard this village is well known for its seafood harvests and … well,’ he clears his throat, carefully placing the plate beside the hamper, ‘I have always been particular to -’

‘Believe me, I know,’ Crowley mutters under his breath.

Aziraphale hears him; the colour in his cheeks heightens and he ducks his head, teeth catching on his lower lip.

Swallowing, Crowley fidgets, brushing against Aziraphale’s left arm. The touch makes them both stiffen, and it’s ridiculous, just ridiculous, Crowley thinks, that the air should suddenly feel charged like the herald of a thunderstorm; like the taut pull of a string between them, just like it used to back when … back when all this was still new.

Still forbidden.

Crowley exhales. Things are not at all like that now, he has to remind himself. It’s good now. It’s easy now. It’s fucking _allowed_ now.

But the oysters … Crowley’s eyes are drawn to the mollusks lying innocently in front of him.

Fucking oysters.

He grows breathless as he remembers, all too vividly, Aziraphale sat across from him in an ancient taberna. He thinks of plump fingers squeezing lemons, pink lips wrapping around shells, and smouldering blue eyes locking with his. A moan of pleasure, sounding sweeter than celestial harmonies and sealing Crowley’s second damnation.

This can’t be a coincidence, Crowley thinks wildly. Aziraphale must know what this means, what this is _doing_ to Crowley.

‘Will you share them with me?’

Crowley looks up sharply, eyes bulging, to find that Aziraphale has been watching him. The Angel is wringing his hands in his lap, the old nervous tic, but his gaze doesn’t waver.

Mouth dry, Crowley manages a nod.

Aziraphale picks up an oyster, and then reaches inside the hamper to withdraw a wedge of lemon.

Watching him squeeze the juice onto the mollusk, Crowley recalls having seen lemons beside the other foodstuffs inside the hamper earlier, when Aziraphale had allowed him a look before running off.

Aziraphale planned this, Crowley realises, winded, just as Aziraphale raises the oyster - to Crowley’s mouth.

He swears that the air crackles between them then, like the distant rumble of thunder before the skies open up, the sand in the hourglass slowing to a tense trickle. There is a tremor in Aziraphale’s fingers, nudging the cool shell against Crowley’s bottom lip. His eyes are wide, bluer than the waves caressing the shore and just as turbulent, a whirlwind of emotions in their depths.

‘Darling,’ Aziraphale whispers, and it’s the little catch in his voice that does it, jolting Crowley into action.

He parts his lips and tilts his head back, allowing Aziraphale to tip the oyster into his mouth. Crowley hasn’t indulged in them much, not since Rome, but instinct reminds him to slurp it up; he shudders at the tangy burst of brine on his tongue, at the distinctive springy texture.

If the mere sight of them had been enough to undo him with memories, then the _taste_ is …

‘Is it good?’ Aziraphale whispers, and he is so close his warmth is tangible.

‘Ngh.’ Crowley shrugs a shoulder, running his tongue over his lower lip. ‘All right. Never really held much flavour for me, oysters.’

‘No?’ A small furrow appears between Aziraphale’s brows, speaking of some disappointment Crowley immediately wishes to wipe away.

‘Ngh. Tastes like the sea, I guess.’

‘Is that _all_ they taste of?’

Crowley blinks, jaw slackening.

‘My dear, would you…?’ Biting his lip, Aziraphale looks pointedly at the plate.

‘Unh…’ Thoughts in a mess, Crowley gropes for an oyster. He blesses inwardly as he wrestles with a piece of lemon, berating himself for how flustered he is. Over the past year, Crowley has certainly fed Aziraphale a bite or two with his own hands, and it always gets them laughing and inappropriately handsy, but _this_ is -

Fucking oysters, he grumbles to himself again as he carefully lifts the mollusk for Aziraphale, trying to ignore the roar of blood in his ears.

Aziraphale meets his eyes, intense and unblinking as Crowley feeds him. His mouth shapes itself enticingly around the oyster, baring the arc of his throat as he swallows and -

‘ _Mmnh_!’

Crowley freezes, the empty shell slipping from his limp fingers. It’s a sound he has heard thousands of times, while sitting across from Aziraphale in restaurants and just as much in Aziraphale’s bed. But the first time he’d heard it this with deliberate lewdness was…

Crowley’s brain - what’s left of it working - screeches to a halt when Aziraphale takes his suspended hand. Warm lips wrap around his fingers, and Crowley can only watch, stunned, as Aziraphale sucks the lingering taste of lemon off every single digit. Looking up at Crowley, Aziraphale swirls his tongue around his middle finger, sucking it down to the second knuckle before pulling off with a wet _pop_. He presses a kiss to the tip, almost an afterthought.

_Fuck_. Aziraphale knows exactly what he’s doing, and as to _why_ that is -

‘How’s the taste?’ Crowley says faintly.

‘Scrumptious.’ Licking his lips, Aziraphale lowers Crowley’s hand. ‘Tastes like Rome.’

A moment passes with nothing but the waves singing their music along the shore.

‘Sssomeone’sss sssake, angel -!’

‘It was on this day, wasn’t it?’ Aziraphale gives a smile that manages to be both coy and timid. ‘When we … when we met. In Rome.’

_Met_. Crowley chokes back a bark of hysterical laughter.

‘Sure. Whatever you want to call it,’ he mutters, but his lips curve up uncontrollably.

Aziraphale looks relieved at his smile. ‘I knew you remembered, too. At least, I _hoped_. When you asked if I’d like to drive down to the beach on this particular date…’

‘Been marking the calendar too, have you?’ Crowley drawls, like he isn’t staggering under the sheer relief at not being the only one clinging to the past like a hopeless idiot.

‘It wasn’t exactly the sort of day one could forget, was it?’ Aziraphale bites at his lower lip again, uncertainty flashing across his face. ‘Isn’t - isn’t that why you invited me today?’

Crowley hesitates, suddenly conflicted. While it’s true that he’s timed this beach outing for this day, it’s occurring to him how bloody weird it would be to say that out loud.

But that’s exactly what his brain does next, the words spilling out before Crowley can filter them, ‘What, to celebrate the first time we fucked?’

Aziraphale stills, looking stricken. ‘My dear…’

‘’M sorry,’ Crowley blurts. ‘That - that came out wrong -’

‘Is that truly how you think of that day?’

Crowley clenches his fists in his lap. ‘I … shit, angel, I … I didn’t mean it like that. But -’

‘But what?’ Aziraphale almost looks hurt, his eyes large and misty.

‘But ain’t that what happened?’ Crowley mumbles. ‘We fucked and we … we left.’

‘ _I_ left, you mean.’

‘Aziraphale -’

‘You can say it, Crowley. It’s true.’ Aziraphale sighs, his smile melancholic. ‘Oh but, darling, if that’s all you think that day was -’

‘No. It was a beginning,’ Crowley interrupts quietly. ‘It’s what got us coming back to each other, but …’ He exhales, glancing towards the sea. ‘We weren’t _together_ , yeah? That came after the Apocalypse. So it felt, I dunno, like a bit mad to, to, yanno, suggest that we, ngh, celebrate _this_.’

‘Hmm.’ The touch of Aziraphale’s hand on Crowley’s forearm is gentle. ‘I wouldn’t say _that_ is what we’re actually celebrating, however.’

‘No?’ Crowley raises his eyebrows. ‘Then what?’

Dropping his voice to a whisper, Aziraphale cradles Crowley’s face in his hands. ‘We celebrate how far we’ve come, my dear. We celebrate the eternity that awaits us.’

Crowley’s stammer of surprised delight is muffled against Aziraphale’s smile as the Angel catches him in a sweet kiss. With a hum, Crowley parts his mouth to slot Aziraphale’s lower lip between his, kissing and sucking lightly until Aziraphale is sighing with pleasure.

With a soft smack, they part, Crowley chasing Aziraphale’s mouth which makes him smile again.

‘How far we’ve come, eh?’ Crowley says, dragging his tongue over his lips and revelling in the taste of brine and citrus and _Aziraphale_.

‘Yes.’ Aziraphale beams at him. ‘For instance, unlike back then, today I have no qualms about telling you exactly what I thought when I came across you in that taberna.’

Crowley lights up, interest peaked. ‘Yeah?’

‘I thought I missed the lovely long locks you sported when last we’d met outside Jerusalem.’ Aziraphale runs a hand through Crowley’s hair, catching between his fingers the curls Crowley has been growing out for the past several months. ‘But then you turned around and I thought it deeply unfair that even short hair should look just as attractive on you.’

Unable to fight off his grin, Crowley places his hands on Aziraphale’s waist, urging him closer on the blanket. ‘Did you now?’

‘Yes. The silver laurels in particular was a beautiful touch.’

‘Oh, this I remember,’ Crowley chuckles. He gives Aziraphale a heated look. ‘Major turn on for you, wasn’t it? You wanted me to wear that in bed.’

Aziraphale’s cheeks glow with a blush, but he leans in closer, hands wandering over Crowley’s torso. ‘I couldn’t be blamed. You looked like temptation incarnate.’

Raising an eyebrow, Crowley slyly begins to undo Aziraphale’s bowtie. ‘ _I_ wasn’t the one doing any tempting for once, then.’ He tugs the tartan strip of cloth free, dropping it aside on the blanket. ‘What else did you think?’

‘Right, um,’ Aziraphale appears a little flustered as Crowley’s hands turn to the buttons of his shirt. ‘I thought - I thought you looked incredibly handsome.’

‘Ehh. Hardly a newsflash,’ Crowley teases and is promptly swatted on the arm.

‘And I thought you seemed rather down, compared to our previous encounters. You were irate and I thought I’d like to make you smile.’

Crowley pauses, his heart kicking up. ‘So you _tempted_ me to lunch…’

‘And you smiled,’ Aziraphale murmurs, breath hitching as Crowley pulls his shirt free from his trousers, ‘for the first time. And I thought of all the times you’d smiled at me, your adversary. I thought about how much I liked it, even when I shouldn’t.’

The last button pops open. Crowley leans in to press his lips to Aziraphale’s neck, each thundering beat of his heart ringing in his ears.

Aziraphale’s throat bobs as he swallows. He tilts his head in greedy invitation.

There is silence then for a few seconds, save for the soft smacks as Crowley sucks kisses down Aziraphale’s neck.

‘What else did you think?’ Crowley whispers, beginning to push Aziraphale’s open shirt off his shoulders.

‘R-right,’ Aziraphale gasps as Crowley nips at him. ‘I thought it so very nice of you,’ he huffs out a laugh when Crowley growls into his neck, ‘that you indulged my enthusiasm for human culinary delights. And at the restaurant, I…’ Aziraphale shudders when Crowley’s teeth scrapes along his skin, ‘I saw you looking at me. I saw you wanting me. For the first time, you made no attemptto hide it and I … I allowed myself to think of all the times I’d secretly wanted you too.’

Crowley pulls back, staring with wide eyes.

Aziraphale caresses his face, grazing a thumb along Crowley’s bottom lip. ‘I looked at you and all I could think about was how much I’d come to care for you. How much I wanted to experience pleasure with you. How _long_ I’d wanted to. In that moment, I cared little for consequences.’

_Little, indeed._ Concern over consequences had set in much later, after it was all over. Crowley pushes aside the thought. They have already talked and come to terms with this; today, Crowley would much rather focus on the happier moments of their first time.

‘So you proceeded to eat those goddamned oysters in front of me,’ Crowley says, ‘like _that_.’

Aziraphale is blushing again. ‘I doubt I would have if I hadn’t caught your reaction of _interest_ to the first one.’

‘Right. So that first oyster was the only one you ate without an ulterior motive,’ Crowley grins.

‘At least two,’ Aziraphale insists and he looks so prim right then, even sat with folded legs while half-undressed and sporting love bites, that Crowley is bowled over with the sheer love and desire that wash over him.

‘May the innocence of those two oysters live on.’

Aziraphale makes an affronted noise that morphs into an appreciative cry when Crowley, without warning, dips down to lick an exposed nipple. Grabbing Aziraphale around the waist, Crowley urges the angel to kneel in front of him, massaging the rolls of fat around his bare hips as Crowley kisses across his chest.

‘Oh darling,’ Aziraphale sighs, sinking his fingers into Crowley’s hair. He tugs involuntarily when Crowley takes the other nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting until the dusky nub is peaked.

Aziraphale’s chest heaves under Crowley’s mouth, little noises of pleasure falling from his lips.

‘C-Crowley,’ he whines, head lolling back as a hot tongue returns to his nipple again, tracing lazy circles in tandem with the clever fingers teasing the other. ‘Is - is this a good idea? The - _ohh_ … oh darling, like that…’

‘Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?’ Crowley grunts before licking down Aziraphale’s sternum to scatter loving kisses over his belly. His slicks his fore and middle fingers with a thought, devoting their attention to playing with Aziraphale’s sensitive nipples.

‘People could come upon us and…’ Aziraphale whimpers, arching his chest into Crowley’s skilful touches. ‘The village is - ah!’ Aziraphale grips his shoulders, shuddering as the Demon contorts in a decidedly astonishing manner to lave over his navel. ‘It’s quite close by…’

‘Please, Aziraphale,’ Crowley says flatly, hiding a smirk as he straightens, ‘like the danger of getting caught doesn’t get you going.’

The Angel makes a protesting sound, jolting when Crowley pinches his nipples.

‘Like having humans just out of earshot doesn’t make you _leak_.’

‘Crowley!’

‘Like fucking in a public place doesn’t make you come hardest.’

Aziraphale huffs, batting Crowley’s hands away from his chest. ‘Now that is hardly a fair observation.’

‘Innit?’ Crowley allows his smirk to unfold. ‘I could draw up a list of all such incidents. How d’you want it, chronologically or alphabetically?’

‘Making love in public isn’t what gives me the greatest pleasure,’ Aziraphale states, ignoring Crowley’s teasing.

‘No? ’Cause, angel, I could _swear_ -’

‘It’s _you_.’ Aziraphale glowers at him.

Crowley blinks. His face breaks into a broad grin. ‘Oh, _dove_.’

Aziraphale’s reaction to Crowley’s recent pet name for him is instantaneous. Cheeks pinking, his lips quiver as he tries to fight down a pleased smile.

‘Must I state the obvious,’ he says with a long-suffering eye-roll. ‘You ridiculous creature.’

Holding Aziraphale close again, Crowley nuzzles at the blond hair trailing past the waistband of his trousers. ‘And you needn’t worry.’ He tugs down the garment to kiss the soft flesh covering Aziraphale’s left hipbone. ‘Today, we have this beach all to ourselves.’

‘Oh Crowley, you really ought not.’ Aziraphale’s tone is caught on that familiar line between chiding and approving.

‘Sure, if you insist.’ Crowley pulls back, raising his hands in surrender. He picks up the discarded blue shirt. ‘Let’s get you dressed and I’ll have people running about in a jiffy.’

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale snaps, glaring balefully.

The Demon pulls on an innocent look. ‘What, I thought I _ought not_ -’

‘Crowley, I swear to God -’

‘Oi, leave Her out of this.’ With a grin, Crowley goes up on his knees so that they are on level with each other. He steals a quick kiss. ‘Unless you’re blaspheming during a shag - that I’m immorally obligated to champion with the utmost enthusiasm.’

‘Dear boy, if you don’t shut up _right now_ and -’

‘And what?’ Crowley pulls Aziraphale flush against him, wrapping his arms possessively around his plush middle. ‘What does my greedy little dove want me to do, hmm?’ He smirks at the rising flush on Aziraphale’s neck and face. ‘We have all the time in eternity and the world’s our, well, _oyster_.’

Lips twitching as he poorly hides a smile, Aziraphale says, ‘What I want is for you to fulfil your promise from Rome again, and put that mouth to better use.’

Crowley blinks, taken aback. ‘What -?’

‘What was it you said back then?’ Aziraphale ghosts his mouth over Crowley’s in a teasing kiss. ‘You wanted to, hmm, feast on my pretty little pussy? And, oh yes, fill my empty cunt with cock, wasn’t it?’

The Angel’s lips curve in satisfaction at the gobsmacked look on Crowley’s face.

‘Aziraphale!’ he croaks, voice strangled.

‘Yes, darling.’

‘You can’t just -!’

‘Why not?’ Aziraphale blinks innocently, tilting his head for another kiss. ‘Those were _your_ words, weren’t they?’

‘And you throw ’em back in my face two fucking millennia later? Nearly _verbatim_?’

‘That’s the whole point of today, Crowley.’ Aziraphale looks earnest now. ‘You’re not the only one who remembers everything. I do, too. All of it. Every moment. Every word. You.’

Crowley gazes at him for a long moment, tremors dancing down his spine. He opens his mouth, finds his throat clogged up, and gives up on words entirely. He grasps Aziraphale by the hips.

‘Up!’ Aziraphale almost loses balance as Crowley manhandles him to his feet. ‘Off!’ Deft fingers unfasten Aziraphale’s trousers, which are yanked unceremoniously down his legs along with the cotton underpants.

For a moment, Crowley, still on his knees, stares at the sight of Aziraphale’s cunt right in front of his face. His hardening cock is tenting his shorts; Crowley thanks Someone that he hasn’t bothered with trunks or any form of tight swimwear.

‘ _Off_ ,’ he repeats, almost desperate now, tugging until Aziraphale has stumbled out of the garments entirely to stand, nude, between Crowley’s thighs.

‘My dear,’ Aziraphale begins with a surprised laugh that catches in his throat when Crowley heaves Aziraphale’s left leg over a shoulder.

Gasping, Aziraphale grabs the only thing within reach for balance, which happens to be Crowley’s head. The sharp tug on his curls makes Crowley look up heatedly; he grasps handfuls of Aziraphale’s arse to bring his crotch right up to the Demon’s mouth.

‘You planned for all this, didn’t you,’ Crowley growls, wafting hot breath over Aziraphale’s cunt, hovering mere centimetres from his mouth. ‘The oysters, the _seduction_ … Rome all over again, hmm?’

‘Only me? Darling, you invited me here,’ returns Aziraphale, though his voice shakes from arousal. ‘But I’d certainly hoped. And I think we can both agree…’ He loosens his hold on Crowley’s hair, petting it gently, ‘we have reached a milestone far better than Rome, my love.’

With a groan of want and utter adoration, Crowley tilts his face up, taking Aziraphale in his mouth.

Even after two thousand years, the pleasure - the fucking privilege - of having Aziraphale knocks the senses right out of him. It stuns him still, the taste of Aziraphale on his tongue, the feel of Aziraphale under his hands - and that Crowley gets to truly _have_ him now, openly in every sense of the word, without shame, without _games_ , it feels enough to discorporate him.

‘Oh Crowley.’

The sound of Aziraphale sighing his name with that sweet adoration he has never really been able to hide, not even under the pretence of _before_ , drags Crowley back into his body. Humming with pleasure, he licks over Aziraphale’s core, dipping his tongue inside to sample that familiar addictive taste before returning to Aziraphale’s clitoris.

Aziraphale’s thigh, slung over Crowley’s shoulder, tenses while his heel digs sharply into Crowley’s back. ‘Oh, goodness, yes,’ he whimpers, pulling at Crowley’s hair as his scorching tongue, swirling and teasing, is replaced by Crowley’s mouth, suckling wetly at his clit.

Aziraphale looks down and blushes to find Crowley already looking up at him. Not looking away, Crowley slides a hand down Aziraphale’s arse to cup his cunt, massaging his soaked labia without parting them. Aziraphale rocks into the touches, whining at the dual stimulation.

‘Oh darling, you -!’ He chokes off with a cry when Crowley dips in two fingers, just barely, to tease at his entrance. Crowley smirks around his clit, laving his tongue in generous licks around the swollen bud.

Panting, Aziraphale grips at Crowley’s hair. ‘I love your mouth,’ he says, his voice hitching. ‘Right from the start, you - ohh! Oh, please, I…!’ Aziraphale grinds down as Crowley presses in with his fingers, scissoring them until the Angel’s tight walls yield to him.

Distracted by the slow fucking and Crowley still sucking his clit, it takes several seconds for Aziraphale to continue, ‘The things you do with that mouth of yours, that _tongue -_!’

It’s hardly the first time Aziraphale has admitted his addiction to these particular features, but it makes Crowley preen all the same. Sucking harder, he drills his fingers into Aziraphale, revelling in the squelch of slick around them.

‘It’s the only time I ever see you … _indulge_.’

Crowley almost stills, eyes widening. _That_ he hasn’t been expecting to hear.

Aziraphale runs his hands through Crowley’s hair again, his smile one of wanton desire and soft affection. ‘You don’t care for food though you enjoy some now and then. But,’ here Aziraphale goes red, but doesn’t look away, ‘the first time you put your mouth on me, and every time since … the way that you, you …’

Releasing Aziraphale’s clit with a soft suck, Crowley hisses, ‘Can’t help it if I can’t find anything as delectable as you, dove.’

‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale drags his name out, looking torn between mortification and glee.

‘Could live between your legs, if you’d like.’ Crowley smacks a kiss on Aziraphale’s clit again, just to make him squirm. ‘Only oyster I ever want to eat.’

‘That is a terrible joke!’ But Aziraphale is biting back a smile.

‘Only pearl worth diving for.’

‘I’m _leaving_.’

‘And for dessert, no sweeter cake than,’ with a sly grin, Crowley slaps Aziraphale’s arse, ‘this.’

‘I can’t believe y -!’ Aziraphale almost chokes when Crowley dives back in, laving over his clit and then further down to wiggle his tongue up his cunt. He takes every advantage of its unnatural length, humming with pride as he licks in even deeper than his fingers still buried inside Aziraphale.

‘Please, no, I …’ Biting his lower lip, Aziraphale cants his hips involuntarily, fucking down on Crowley’s tongue and fingers. Crowley moans, delighting in the gush of slick over his mouth and chin. He angles his face until he can nose at Aziraphale’s clit with every thrust.

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale gasps. ‘No, wait, wait, Crowley - I -!’

With a disappointed whine, Crowley lets Aziraphale push his head away. The Angel stumbles back onto two legs.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Oh, nothing is wrong, I just…’ Breathing hard, Aziraphale stands between Crowley’s thighs again. ‘I want to finish with you.’

Crowley grins, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth and chin. ‘Fulfil the second part of my ancient promise, you mean?’

‘Why must you make it sound like I’m the only one who wants it?’ Aziraphale huffs, but without any real heat.

‘Oh, I want it,’ Crowley drawls, sitting back and stretching his legs out. ‘But everything’s all the more sweeter when you tell me what you want.’

‘You just want to make me beg.’

‘You like it when I make you beg.’ Crowley gives him a sizzling look, raising a challenging eyebrow. ‘When I keep you on edge for just that much longer, when you’re just so _close_ -’

Aziraphale straddles his thighs, grounding down on Crowley’s lap and effectively shutting him up.

‘What I _want_ , my dear, is for you to put your money -’

‘Where my mouth is?’ Crowley finishes in a growl. He crushes Aziraphale to him, bringing him close enough to brush their noses together. ‘As you said, angel, I remember too. All of it.’

‘Good. Do it, then.’ And Aziraphale leans in, capturing Crowley’s mouth in a searing kiss as he lifts his hips invitingly.

Crowley fumbles to shove down his shorts, wrangling with the irritating garment to free his cock, a feat he discovers is more challenging when one is sat down. Before he can miracle it away, though, Aziraphale wiggles down, sliding his wet folds over Crowley.

All extraneous thoughts disappear at once. Moaning around Aziraphale’s tongue, Crowley slicks up his prick and guides it to Aziraphale’s cunt.

He has barely removed his hand when Aziraphale sinks down on him, taking Crowley all the way inside at once. Crowley grunts in both surprise and pleasure, shivering as Aziraphale sways in his lap, his movements both pleased and seeking more.

Crowley tries to ask if Aziraphale is all right, but the Angel wraps his arms more firmly around him, keeping them flush together as they continue to exchange deep, slow kisses. Humming contentedly, Crowley strokes his hands up and down Aziraphale’s broad back, enjoying the warmth of his skin under his palms, his soft lips against his, and the hot clutch of his pussy around him.

Aziraphale breaks away to kiss along Crowley’s jaw, nipping playfully at him. ‘This happens unfairly often between us, doesn’t it?’

‘Wha’s unfair?’ Crowley mumbles, squirming his hips to try for some more friction. ‘Only thing unfair is you got my prick but you won’t move.’

‘I was under the impression you like it when I keep you warm,’ Aziraphale chuckles, flicking his tongue at Crowley’s earlobe.

‘ _Angel_ …’

‘But your answer is incorrect. What’s unfair is how many times _I_ end up nude while you remain clothed while we -’

‘Bonk?’ Crowley supplies with a snicker.

‘Make love.’ Aziraphale bites the shell of his ear, eliciting a yelp.

‘What can I say, our stars just align that way.’

‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale complains, pulling at his tee-shirt.

‘Even the universe knows you’re lovelier to look at. Any clothes on you are, frankly, a fucking atrocity.’

‘Crowley!’

‘All right, all right.’ Laughing, Crowley leans back to pull his tee-shirt off. He throws it away, uncaring of how it lands on the sand. ‘Better?’

Soft hands roam over his torso, mapping the flat panes of his stomach and scratching at his nipples.

‘Much.’ Aziraphale smiles. He drags his hands around Crowley’s shoulders to feel along his naked back, humming into Crowley’s mouth. ‘You’re still wearing the shorts, however.’

‘Does it matter? All my important bits are out, anyway.’ Sniggering at the look on Aziraphale’s face, Crowley pecks him on the lips. ‘Tell you what, fuck me with that sweet pussy you’re torturing me with, and then I’ll take it off.’

‘What’s the point then?’ Aziraphale grinds down on his cock again, making Crowley start with sudden arousal. ‘We’ll be getting dressed after, anyway.’

Crowley lifts an eyebrow. ‘Oh, _dove_ , is that what you thought?’

Aziraphale blinks. ‘What?’

Crowley yanks Aziraphale down with him and then rolls over, grinning broadly when he has the Angel pinned to the blanket*. Aziraphale stares up at him, eyes dilated with surprise and desire.

(* It is an unnaturally well-behaved picnic blanket, hardly getting a wrinkle and not inviting a single sand particle aboard.

And as its occupants become more active, it accommodates its size as necessary, keeping the forgotten wicker hamper and plate of oysters conscientiously out of the way.)

‘When I’m done, angel,’ Crowley murmurs, beginning to slowly rock his hips into Aziraphale, ‘I won’t be done with you.’

Sighing in pleasure, Aziraphale spreads his legs more to invite Crowley in deeper.

‘What do you think I’ll do, Aziraphale, after fulfilling my old promise?’

Aziraphale tightens his grip on Crowley’s hips, panting with the increasing vigour of his thrusts. ‘Make the promise anew?’

‘Take you skinny dipping!’

‘What?’ Aziraphale’s jaw goes slack.

Crowley laughs, unrestrained and joyous. ‘It’s not every day I get you to do away with all of your layers.’ With a wink, Crowley drops a kiss on Aziraphale’s nose. ‘Now that I have you naked on a beach, ain’t nothing stopping me from taking you bathing.’

‘Oh, you silly old serpent,’ Aziraphale grumbles, slumping back down onto the blanket.

‘Why, are you disappointed?’ Crowley slows down his thrusts to grind into Aziraphale instead, smirking when the Angel cries out at the renewed stimulation on his clit. ‘Were you hoping I’d just leap into round two?’

‘Crowley, please!’ Aziraphale arches up against him, rocking down to meet his hips.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll still do that.’ Crowley kisses the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth and licks a wet stripe up his jawline. ‘We’ll go swimming and diving, poke around the reef, fuck in front of the fish…’

‘We most certainly shall not,’ Aziraphale says, his attempt at indignation ruined by another moan as Crowley thrusts in harder. ‘Was - ohh … was kissing in front of the ducks not enough?’

Crowley gives a delighted bark of laughter. ‘I knew it. I knew you liked how I snogged you in St James.’

‘Well -’

‘You like fucking in public places, angel, I rest my case.’

‘Oh would you just shut up and fuck me.’

In response, Crowley grins and kisses him.

Later, Aziraphale manages to get Crowley to lie with him on the blanket, with a hasty promise to go bathing after they have caught their breaths. Crowley sees it for the ruse it is, but doesn’t call Aziraphale out on it; not when he gets to hold his Angel in his arms and watch him bask in post-coital bliss.

Pressed close to Crowley’s side, it is not long though, before Aziraphale takes the hand Crowley is idly stroking over his hips and guides it between his legs again.

Crowley gives a low chuckle. ‘You really can’t wait, can you,’ he teases, even as he slips his fingers between the soaking folds to tease at Aziraphale’s clit.

‘We’ve done our waiting, haven’t we,’ Aziraphale murmurs back, sliding down his own hand to take hold of Crowley’s soft cock. ‘Sod waiting.’

Crowley makes a scandalised face and Aziraphale chuckles.

‘I don’t disagree with you, but it’s …’ Crowley nods at the empty beach around them, and the serene lap of waters along the shore, ‘it’s like the countryside, isn’t it? Our time together now, I mean. There’s so much of it and we can just …’

‘Go slow?’

‘Savour it. At our own pace.’

‘Hmm.’ Aziraphale casts his gaze around as well. ‘It _is_ peaceful, I suppose. It almost feels like the land can … breathe out here.’

‘Yeah…’ Biting his lower lip, Crowley looks nervously at Aziraphale. He has been having a _thought_ and it seems that the timing now is -

‘Maybe someday in the future, we might … we might even … move out to a place like this?’

Aziraphale’s hand stills.

‘If that is to your liking,’ Crowley adds quickly. ‘London is absolutely top-notch, of course. But the world has so many options, yanno? Might not be the worst thing, to have a cottage or something, somewhere quiet by the sea, with lots of room for all of your books, maybe set up a vivarium for my plants -’

‘Together?’ Aziraphale interrupts softly.

Crowley clears his throat, his heart pounding. ‘If you’d like. Honestly, if you’d prefer us having separate places across the lane, that’s more than fi -’

Crowley is cut off once more, this time by Aziraphale rolling on top of him and kissing him soundly on the mouth.

He blinks, dazed, when Aziraphale pulls back. And in the blinding smile that shines down on him, Crowley finds his answer.

‘My love, I am the most blessed* to have you.’

(* Crowley disagrees. If anyone is truly, unironically blessed, then it is him, to be here surrounded by sand, as once they had been, with the greatest blessing of all in his arms.)

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine they were at the beach at West Wittering, Sussex, as a precursor to their South Downs Retirement Plan - but I didn't want to set a particular location within the fic
> 
> This was less smut and more silliness bc I was in a soft mood for them. Again, I can't thank you all enough for the love and support you've shown this series! Cheers, and much love to you guys <3
> 
> **BONUS** : I wrote a missing scene for Wicked Thing called ['light from the heavens'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772424/chapters/65329318) as one of my Kinktober ficlets
> 
> **Shameless self-promo** : I wrote more smut (I know, what a shocker) in my first dark!Crowley fic ['Darkest Before the Dawn'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25952785/chapters/63085702), which I posted sometime back. It is very explicit ~~(was informed by more than a few that it has the filthiest sex scene I've written O///O)~~ but also nothing like my usual content. If you check it out, please mind the tags/warnings! This is not a story for everyone, make the choice that's best for you :)
> 
> Make my day with a comment/kudos~ Or come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RV_Phoenix_Soar) and [Tumblr](https://phoenix-soar.tumblr.com)
> 
> More of my Ineffable Husbands fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=575567&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Phoenix_Soar)


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